i lie because no one calls me out
by another moment gone
Summary: Two-shot. "She starts giggling uncontrollably, the alcohol consuming the better half of her. Her mind is swirling like a colorful rainbow that creates an abyss, her laughter and just the simple truth wanting to be known." *R&R* -another moment gone-
1. the ending is

i lie because no one calls me out

* * *

_make me wanna die –_the pretty reckless

_every breath –_boyce avenue

* * *

She laughs freely, the wind tousling her flacks of brown curls playfully, amber eyes shielded by thin lids. Her feet shuffle forward against the cement, the adrenaline coursing through her veins, the blood rushing to her head as her feet inch closer towards the edge.

The noisy wind howls as she bellows with happiness, her arms spread out like a bird's, "I bet I can fly." She shouts, trying to dominate the wind.

He looks up at her shadow, horror reflecting in his brown flecked orbs.

She starts giggling uncontrollably, the alcohol consuming the better half of her. Her mind is swirling like a colorful rainbow that creates an abyss, her laughter and just the simple truth wanting to be known.

"He hit me since I was thirteen," She says, her face still facing the edge, her body still prepared to leap high into the sky, preparing to be swept by the heavy winds. "Everyone thinks we're perfect though."

He watches her figure while trying not to stare at how beautiful she looks, even if she is preparing to jump. He looks at how serene she appears to be but not understanding those ugly words that are slipped through her beautiful lips.

"Claire says I should tell someone," the brunette cracks up again, the snort escaping. She lifts a leg up, testing her fear.

"Am I the only one you told?" He replies, trying to compete with the loud wintry wind. He begins to inch closer to her stance as she stoically leans over the edge.

"Yes," she admits sheepishly, the alcohol reeking from her body. The truth sobers him.

"If you get off that edge," he reasons, "I'll kick his ass."

This caused her to cackle amongst the angry wind. He couldn't figure out what was so funny about his words. She just simply shook her head, stepping down from scaling the edge of the chemistry building.

"You can't do a thing, Harrington." She strokes his cheek for a moment, her amber eyes gleaming in the moon's odd light. He feels his cheeks heat up. "So stop trying to be my prince," she demands. "You can't save me."

"—But he _hits_ you," he protests, furiously while trying to pull her closer to him. She shakes him off, his touch burning her skin.

She drunkenly crawls up on the side of the building again, fits of giggles emitting into the cool winter night.

"The moon is so big." She states, a smile on her face.

"Block," he shakily says as she leans a little _too_ far over the edge. "Come back down here."

"Make me!" She counters, whipping her head back to look at him for just a moment, her eyes playful but seriousness burning in them. Her eyes say everything.

"Block," he says, trembling with apprehension. "I'm serious."

This seemed to sober her up. She looked back at him with those hauntingly beautiful ambers, "So am I." She growls angrily, her hands in her jean pockets.

"Maybe I'm tired of how fucked up life can be," she says quietly; he wasn't sure if he was hearing her right. "Daddy dearest has, like, five affairs going on right now," she nastily hisses. "Mom's too drunk to see straight and when she's not, she's popping pills like it's nobody's business…" She contemplates for a moment, swaying from her left side to her right, eyes shut tightly.

"But then again," she says, "Maybe it _is_ nobody's business."

He watches this beautiful ice queen melt like ice under the warmth of the sun. Her small frame was shaking and so was the beer bottle in her hand.

She leaned over once again, dizzily, he must add, losing balance and swaying back and forth. She wobbled for a moment as he stopped breathing, the beer bottle in her left hand flinging under the light of the moon, flying down, down, down.

"Oops." She breathes.

His heart beat picked up again. He lost his patience. "Get down right now Massie."

"Stop trying to make everything better," she slurs.

"Someone has to." He moans exasperated.

"Well it doesn't work," she bitterly says while standing up again, her eyes haunted and desire burning in them.

"I want to jump," she admits.

He's ready to grab her small frame from the edge.

"Come down, Block," he whispers, not sure if she can hear him.

"What reason is there to come down?" She demands, not turning her back to look at him. For someone drunk, she was pretty damn beautiful.

"So Mom can tell me how much of a failure I am? So Daddy can bribe me with clothes and accessories not _to tell_ Mom about the many whores that come in and out of the back door? So Kemp can give me some more lovely bruises that I have to cover up?" Her sarcasm is seething.

He flinches at the thought of anyone hurting her.

"There's nothing to live for…" She drawls.

"Live for me." He bravely demands, taking a step closer to her body. The wind slows down.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because," he takes a step closer. She doesn't look back still. He advances another step.

"Because why." She asks, dread in her voice.

"Because I need you," he says.

Her frame begins to shake as she wobbles unsteadily on her own two feet. He reaches up to pull her down.

She falls.

He catches her.

He holds her closely as her small body begins to shake with racks of tears. He cradles her as he stumbles against the wall and slides down slowly, her still in his arms. She has an iron grip on his t-shirt.

"Shhh," he soothes. "I'm here, baby. I'm here."

"Don't leave me." She begs, tears spilling down her cheeks.

"I promise you," he vows, "I will not leave you."

Her crying settles down and soon she's just sniffling. His shoulders relax a breath he's been holding whooshes out. She's steadily breathing into his chest.

"Thank you." She whispers in a little girl's voice. He nods, stroking her hair.

"I'll always be right here," he gestures gently to his heart. "No matter what happens."

She nods slowly, huddling against him.

"Don't tell anyone about tonight," she pleads, locking eyes with his browns. "Promise?"

His heart drops.

"Yeah…I promise."

Oh what silly games we play.

* * *

Part two will come soon.(:

*R&R*

-another moment gone-


	2. only the beginning

i lie because no one calls me out

* * *

_27—fall out boy_

_Disloyal order of water buffaloes –fall out boy

* * *

_

A new bruise every other day, or so it seems. A purple mesh of a variety of different splotches, dark blood red, a nasty purple, haunting angry blue.

Concealer is your best friend.

He wraps an arm around you and you have grown accustomed to melting in his arms, such a strange thought: _his arms, hands, palm._ So tender with eyes watching, so comforting and warm, but so_so__**so**_ biting when livid, strong, powerful—furious.

His hands intertwined with your smaller weaker hands. (His hands gripping your thin wrists as you try to hide, run, duck, anything.) His arms looped around your waist. (His arms grabbing hold of your body—you can't escape.)The palms of his hands; big, calloused. A man's hand, you decide. (A slap to the cheek, stinging when touched and smoothed out with his amendments, the red spreading all over blotchily.)

You take another step closer.

"We're so damn perfect," you mutter, arms stuck out far apart—desired _wings_. You close your eyes, the relief knowing he wasn't behind you, chasing you as you graveled on your knees to hide from his huge bulging frame.

The comfort knowing Harrington wasn't standing behind you, lurking in your own shadows, demanding you get down from 'that damn ledge, Block.'

"_You two are so cute."_ _Claire Lyons gushes._

"_So perfect…" Allie-Rose Singer murmurs, envy dripping from the tone of her voice._

"_He was such a player… before…her." _

"_They'll be married, soon." _

"Bullshit." You curse angrily, taking another baby step forward. The cars whoosh back and forth, the lining and sinking and the catching of a hook.

The wind grabs at your hair.

"_Oh." You whisper to yourself._

_He's on top of her voluptuous body, her hands still entangled in his curls of brown. She giggles sweetly._

_You sniffle._

_He jumps off her, alarmed._

"_Kemp," she croons, "come back here."_

'_Don't.' You internally beg._

_He does. _

_Her lips kiss all over his shirtless body, and he returns the favor. You turn away, the shame and anger burning your face. You're flashing red._

"_You slept with her, didn't you?" You accuse._

"_What are you talking about, Mass?" He retorts, still watching the TV; his eyes never flitting towards your angry frame._

"_Damnit Hurley!" You slam the plate in your hand on the tile floor._

"_Massie." He growls, sitting up._

_You stand your ground. "You asshole."_

_It happened so fast you barely could acknowledge the fact that he was striding right at you and you barely noticed the fact that his hand was raised. _

_It was not only a hand, but a fist._

_You flew against the wall like some action-movie you and your daddy used to watch when you were eleven or twelve. You hit the wall with a soft thump. The room spun for a few moments._

"_I didn't sleep with anyone, Massie." He confirmed, eyes flashing angrily, standing over you with anger flashing in his once-kind-brown eyes._

_He was breathing hard as you looked anywhere but at the monster right in front of you._

It was only yesterday. You touch your cheek bone lightly; you wince in pain as it strikes through your face. Usually he was better about hitting you; only hitting you in places that were easy to conceal.

You teeter over the edge, pushing your fears to the back of your head, eyes finally flickering open.

"_I love you," he whispers right as he kisses you softly, those monstrous hands rubbing your latest-bruise to the face. He touches it softly. "What happened here?" He examines your face with new eyes, simple curiosity. _

_You look away, moving your face purposely from his touch, which by the way was burning your face. He frowns at that movement. But you two were in public, he wouldn't as dare slap a palm to your face. You were safe._

_You turned away from his blind eyes and looked towards the blond laughing with his friend, Cam Fisher was it? He was chuckling at what the boy with two different colored eyes was saying._

_They looked so carefree._

_Your eyes flitted over to the group of girls giggling and twirling their hair as they flirt with a group of high school boys. The redhead burped and the entire group burst out into pure harmonic laughter._

_A frown etched onto your blotched face._

"_Right, Mass?" He boasts._

_You nod curtly as he kisses your cheek. _

_You wince._

Your laughter is loud and dry as you think about how lucky you are to have a roof all to yourself; no Kemp, no Claire, no Olivia, no, _no one_.

Except maybe Harrington.

He shouldn't have followed you up those hidden stairs, and he _definitely _shouldn't have watched you totter on top of the roof with a mechanical laugh escaping your lips.

"_That Harrington is a prick," Kemp announces, his eyes landing on the blond boy as he sticks a French fry up his nose. You crack a small smile._

"_What's so funny, Mass?" Kemp asks, his eyes examining your face expression—over-looking your countless internal bleedings._

"_Nothing." You squeak._

"_Oh." He drawls, pulling you into a heavy kiss, you want to pull away, hating the taste of cigarettes, weed, alcohol and a minty wafer. You hate how his tongue is down your threat as you silently gag, his hands reaching down your shirt _too _far. _

_You hate him._

_But you love him._

You advance one more step, your eyes still wide open. You watch the retreating figures below you, rushing around campus, late for their classes. You watch a couple hold hands and show-off their perfection. (No such thing.)

Your laughter is loud and bitter, it hurts your throat. You wheeze coughs for a few moments. Your hands are wide open, the wind lacing along your fingertips, the light touch of your hair scaling along your neck. You get goose bumps.

"_She was a mistake," your mom hisses. "I wanted an abortion but—no, you wanted a kid."_

_Your dad looks furious, "I wanted a son so he could take control of my business when I died. But as it turns out, I got a daughter and I died a little inside when she was born."_

_How dramatic, you think snidely._

_Your mom slams a fist on the granite, loud shouting, "As soon as she's out of the house for college—if she makes it—this is going to be a divorce, William." She stormed out then, brushing past your bruised shoulder._

"_Get out of my way, Massie." She screeched, storming past your frozen perch._

"This is for you Mom, Dad, Kemp." You inch closer to the edge as the cars becoming louder and louder. There's honking. There's life but not yours.

"Sorry Derrick." You whisper, as you pull the elastic band that held her hair up in a messy bun. It becomes a curtain blowing around your face. You flip your hair once and begin to smile. A big, genuine, grateful smile. You let out a school-girl giggle.

He's on your mind as your left foot extends into nothing.

His smile is a picture perfect image for you as your right foot loses touch of the gravely cement.

His faraway gentle touch is burning your skin as the wind fights you while gravity greedily grabs you.

His words echo in your ears as the wind whooshes.

He was simply going to be the last good thought on your mind as you fall.

The ending wasn't a splat though, just a quiet thump.

_Thump._

What perfect endings we share.

* * *

*R&R*

Thank you for the previous reviews on all of my stories, guys. I love them. They motivate me!

-another moment gone-


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